Follow You
by HaylinOka
Summary: Because Dallas Winston will follow Johnny Cade to the ends of the earth, even if it means losing his own life. Rewrite of the ending, from Dally's P.O.V., right after the fire. Rated teen because I am one and for brief mentions of suicide. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

_****_**A.N. I do not own The Outsiders, all rights belong to S.E. Hinton. Rewritten from right after the fire. **

_White lights, fake images of sunshine flashing, worried voices, snapping in ears, glimpses of fingers poking and prodding; dull pounding pain throughout it all…._

**Chapter Seven**

I awoke in a panic, surrounded by white with people dressed in scrubs buzzing around me. My fingers, itching for the comfort of my blade, attempt to slide into my pocket, to ease around the familiar shape, to know that I have a weapon if I need it.

But it's not there.

Nor is my pocket, just bare leg.

It comes rushing back to me, the past, the fire, the blaze, the pain stabbing itself in my arm, the noise of the hospital.

Johnny.

I fall back into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"He awake yet?" he lacks that glow that normally accompanies him.

"Not yet, and not sense the last time you asked me, either. Still slipping in and out of consciousness."

"Well you let me know if anything changes." He turns to go. Where did all his laughter go?

"Wait—" a groan escapes my parched mouth. Two-Bit whirls around.

"Did you hear that?" his eyes glint at that sticky woman, that no-nonsense tone coated by syrup so thick it couldn't be separated.

"Yes, I did. I told you the boy was slippin' in and out of the waking world. He needs his rest—"

"How's Johnny?" I cut her off. Can't stand that tone of hers.

"Dally! You're awake! Ponyboy is doing fine, just a bit bent up, I'll be sure to send on your regards to his health. Johnnycakes….well, Johnny is currently in critical condition…."

"What?"

"His back…it's broken. He's paralyzed. Will never walk again…. They say he doesn't have much of a chance."

Johnny. Oh God, not Johnny. But he's Johnny. He'll pull through. Even when his dad beats him into nothingness, when his body is a violent shade of purple and he looks like he might be dead, he pulls through. He always does. He's Johnny Cade, after all. And he won't die on me.

"The rumble. When's the rumble?"

"Two nights from now—" a cough interrupted Two-Bit. The nurse was back.

"Excuse me, but Dallas here needs his rest. Now if you would be so good as to leave."

"But—"

"But nothing. The boy needs his rest. You can come back later."

"Fine. See ya' later, Dally."

And then I was alone again, with only thoughts of the coming storm to keep me company.


	3. Chapter 3

He was back, with Ponyboy this time. Ponyboy wore the look of tightly concealed anger, a sharp contrast to his usual once-upon-a-time expression. It could only mean one thing: they had run into one of Johnny's parents. But this wasn't the time for this; that could come later. Right now, I had a mission, a purpose.

"Sorry, kid, for hitting you to hard. You alright?" Ponyboy nods in response, allowing some of the anger to seep out his pours.

"It's alright. You saved my life. Thank you." He says in response, his voice has a slight rasp to it that it didn't have before.

"No problem." I allow a smile to grace my face. I shrug it off, continue towards my goal.

"Two-Bit, your blade. You have your blade right?"

"Of course I have my blade, I always have my blade. You take good care of her, you hear?" Two-Bit hands me his prized possession, a switch blade with a black handle; a real beauty. I run my finger along the outside of the handle.

"Guys," I flick open the blade, "with this knife, we will beat those dang Socs in the rumble. We're goin' to teach 'em a lesson, goin' to show 'em who is the toughest of the toughest." And I meant it. It was the only way to get those scums back for what they've done to Johnnycakes.

The room is taut with silence, with all the words that remained unspoken, with all the pain that was left out in the open to rot in the sun. I'm not all that good with words—when you live on the street, you don't have a need for school things like words—or people; but I know how to get my point across.

"You sure?" Ponyboy was the first one to speak, which was a surprise to me; the kid always has a terror in his eyes when he's around me; he thinks he hides it, but he can't. I open my mouth to reply, but Two-Bit cuts me off.

"_Of_ course he's sure. He's Dallas Winston. And Dallas always gets what he wants." What was with Two-Bit? Where was his laughing and joking manner, why had the ease been replaced by tired lines rimming his eyes and grimaces around his mouth? What was with Ponyboy, where had that quiet innocence that had always been present in his face, gone?

We talked a little more, but the nurse, a new one, Cheryl, appeared, and shoed them off. It must be because of Johnny; was he really all that bad? There was only one way to find out.

As seven thirty crept up on the hospital, blanketing the halls with the dimness of night, I grabbed Two-Bit's blade, stowing it in the pocket of the standard-issue sweats I had been given. The nurse had stepped out for a smoke—despite her demands for me to quit at it—so I was free to ease down the hall into the critical case section, and to let the knife talk my way into Johnny Cade's room. 318.

His eyes are closed, tubes are coming from his nostrils and his arms, binding him to this earth, his mouth hanging open and a small snore escaping out of it.

"Johnny." I choke out a whisper. It's my fault this small body is so badly burnt up, my fault that there are scars that will never heal. Without thinking, my fingers reach out and wrap around an outstretched hand.

I stay like that all night.


End file.
